I'm actually quite numb at the thought. I mean, I know we need the move. But I don't want to. It may be a fricken poop hole, but it is our fricken poop hole.
I don't want to climb down the wall on Friday and know I won't do it again. I like that wall! I like peeing against a wall they can't even be bothered to paint any more. I like Knowsley Road, with all its flaws, like getting leaked on when it rains, and the fact that the roof is lined with asbestos.
I'm actually quite numb at the thought. I mean, I know we need the move. But I don't want to. It may be a fricken poop hole, but it is our fricken poop hole.
I don't want to climb down the wall on Friday and know I won't do it again. I like that wall! I like peeing against a wall they can't even be bothered to paint any more. I like Knowsley Road, with all its flaws, like getting leaked on when it rains, and the fact that the roof is lined with asbestos.
Phil Bentham scoured the video tape and despite conclusive evidence that Smith was a half yard offside, he allowed the try to stand. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Saints are a big-game team with bags of big-game experience. They have won five Challenge Cups from six final appearances in the Super League era and have won five Grand Finals in that time too.
Add two World Club Championships to that and you have the roll-call of the best rugby league team this country has produced in the modern-era - and it's a phenomenal record. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ancient & Royal wrote....
"You are proud to be associated with that dis-organised band of mercenaries?
I am ashamed to be a Wigan fan hell yes, what have we got to be un-ashamed about? We are a joke, a laughing stock, we are NOTHING, why cant people understand!"
I'm actually quite numb at the thought. I mean, I know we need the move. But I don't want to. It may be a fricken poop hole, but it is our fricken poop hole.
I don't want to climb down the wall on Friday and know I won't do it again. I like that wall! I like peeing against a wall they can't even be bothered to paint any more. I like Knowsley Road, with all its flaws, like getting leaked on when it rains, and the fact that the roof is lined with asbestos.
God damnit.
SAVE OUR KNOWSLEY ROAD!
Sad day indeed. It really wont sink in until we have all left and look back at it from outside while walking away. Then it will!
It certainly will when the bulldozers arrive in October.
If everyone wants to be the last one out they'll need security to shift us all and many many tannoy announcements.
I'm actually quite numb at the thought. I mean, I know we need the move. But I don't want to. It may be a fricken poop hole, but it is our fricken poop hole.
I don't want to climb down the wall on Friday and know I won't do it again. I like that wall! I like peeing against a wall they can't even be bothered to paint any more. I like Knowsley Road, with all its flaws, like getting leaked on when it rains, and the fact that the roof is lined with asbestos.
I'm going to be quite emotional for me. Knowsley Road has been one of the only constants in my life, it's been there, unmoving for as long as I have memories. I remember walking into Knowsley Road for my first ever rugby league game, being so, so excited that my Dad finally said I could go with him. I remember him carrying me out of the same game, so strong like he was made of iron. I can remember when I was a little bigger running around behind the away end at Knowsley Road with the friends I'd taken to the game, I remember kicking the cone style hats off the policemen's head in the corner when they had a seat there. I remember having my first kiss there, a girl from St Helens called Hayley. I remember going to the games against Warrington fearing that elusive defeat would finally happen and I would be slaughtered in school, I remember the delight in it never materialising. I remember being there for my Dad's first heart attack, being so scared. I remember him walking back to the town centre for my Mum to pick us up before he collapsed. I remember his first game back after that, being so relieved that he could still go. I remember cursing him as I dragged him drunk back to Morrisons for our lift home one time, I remember him carrying me back when I'd had too many during my teenage years. He's had three heart attacks since and yet he's made all but a handful of the games there. I remember all the chats we had there, about leaving primary school, GCSE's college, uni, work, girls, having my first son. I remember us going and seeing my Dad cry as he watched me carrying my son back to the car, sound asleep, after his first game.
The worst thing about Friday is that my Dad isn't going to be able to come. He's in hospital and his health is deteriorating fast, so the passing of one of the constants in my life is likely to closely coincide with that of another.
I hope we don't lose.
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